


An Open-Ended Case

by ShikiKyuu



Series: Immortal Winchesters [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6063235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShikiKyuu/pseuds/ShikiKyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before there was a Dean and Sam Winchester on his radar, there was a more gruesome mystery to be solved.</p><p>The problem was, Victor Henriksen had nothing but a symbol carved onto every single victim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Open-Ended Case

 

_**Summer 2000** _

Victor Henriksen had been an agent of the Federal Bureau for close to a decade, and so far, he has never seen a crime scene quite like the ones these past six months. Two murders per month, all of various MO’s but with the exact same Signature – a symbol carved onto some part of each victim’s body – which was the only detail that connected the murders. Had the perp not left such obvious scarring, then this serial killer would have probably remained unknown to the country.

He was currently parking his car near the crime scene, a large alley in Nashville, Tennessee at three o’clock am. All police departments were given a picture of the symbol and ordered to call the FBI should any bodies with such a carving appear. Since then, they had been called in several times, each scene varying in levels of brutality. The case was quickly wearing on him.

Exiting the vehicle alongside his partner, Agent Camm, Victor charged through the throng of civilians that had gathered around the yellow tape to try and see the body, much to his disgust. A person was violently murdered – someone with a family and friends and dreams and accomplishments – and these barbarians could only gawk in curiosity and fascination. There was no horror found in these shameless spectators.

While Camm spoke to the lead detective, Victor headed right for the thirteenth victim.

The serial murderer had crossed both gender and racial lines. Six were women, six were men. Seven were Caucasian, three were African-American, and two were of Asian descent. And adding Enrica Solorio, that made one Latina and seven women total. With victimology all over the place, there was a high probability of never catching the bastard. On top of that was the geographical area which ranged from Montana – where the first victim was found – over to Minnesota and down to Iowa, then further southeast until this most recent victim in Tennessee. His killer was travelling, perhaps with the intention of evading capture or because they were naturally transient. Either way, the case would go cold once again until the next murder, and then go cold again after that.

This was his most frustrating case in years, and Victor didn’t see it ending any time soon.

Camm joined his side, staring down morosely at the body. “The detective assures that no one but the police know about the details of Ms. Solorio’s murder. Seems we’re still good in that aspect.”

Victor nodded. “Let’s hope it stays that way. The last thing we need is for the story of a serial killer going public. They’re already at two bodies a month. With recognition, we could expect an exponential spike in victims.”

“The press would have a field day sensationalizing this son of a bitch,” Camm agreed. “Give ‘em a stupid name too. Absolutely revolting, reporters are.”

That said, Camm crouched and lifted the plastic sheet covering the corpse. Victor bent down to one knee, leaning in with a critical eye. Solorio, while still wearing underwear and jeans, was missing a shirt and shoes. The arms and torso were littered with stab wounds, her white bra splattered with blood but breasts untouched, and like the other female victims, no evidence of rape. Her right elbow joint was dislocated, the limb unnaturally twisted so the inside of her elbow faced out.

His gaze moved up to her neck. The apparent cause of death was a slit throat, though that was a kind description, for she had nearly been decapitated. From his position, Victor could see muscle and tissue, as well as the white color of bone, easily distinguishable from the mess of gore that puddled beneath. The skull was free from injury, expected considering only the male victims were usually bashed over the head. However, she did have a shallow cut that went from her left temple down to the cheek and ended below the bottom jaw. It may have been the first wound she received since it was the least damaging. He glanced down towards her legs and feet, checking for anything else before standing.

Camm observed the deceased for a few more seconds, and then blanketed her body again, sending a little prayer for her safe journey, wherever that might be.

Victor allowed his partner that brief sentiment, even though he highly doubted Enrica Solorio was enjoying an afterlife. To Victor, that was wishful thinking, a childish dream that held strong when reality became too much. He accepted that once someone died, they were dead. There was no frolicking in a field of sunflowers under the warmth of the sun, and no family gatherings where stories of a previous life were told. But his partner didn’t need to hear those thoughts. If hoping for peace after death saved his sanity, then Victor would keep his silence.

Camm soon crossed his arms. “She was thrown away like garbage, just like the others. Our serial doesn’t care about these men and women. They satisfy their need to kill and then discard the body.”

“Perhaps, but we know very little still. Does he really have a _need_ to kill, or does he do it just for fun? Our guy always waits exactly fourteen days before killing another person, so he could have a compulsion to kill every two weeks, or he may use that time to relive the kill, among other possibilities that we can’t assume without any more information.”

“You mean more bodies,” Camm interpreted with a scowl.

Victor couldn’t hide his defeated expression as he agreed. “That’s how it seems.”

Camm huffed out a loud breath, his chest swelling and decompressing under his suit. “You believe our serial’s a man?”

“I find it less likely that a woman could dump weighty dead bodies without drawing attention to herself.”

Camm concurred with a tilt of the head.

What they didn’t say aloud was the possibility of it being a killing team, for it was a small percent chance and they were only seeing one profile, not two.

“With the numerous amounts of stab wounds, I’d suggest overkill,” Victor muttered.

Camm disagreed, though not vehemently. “But there’s no sign of rage. In fact, I’d say the stabbing was methodical since there was practically two inches between each wound. And though numerous, they were shallow enough to not cause much damage. He tortured her, yes, but out of rage, no. ”

“We definitely know he’s a sadist, but there hasn’t been any sexual component to these murders. And that’s rare for male serial killers.”

“Maybe he’s impotent,” Camm offered. “The stabbing may be a form of sexual release.”

“But Solorio was the only victim that was stabbed. Austin Chambers had wounds from a knife, but it wasn’t used for stabbing.” Victor internally cringed as he recalled the twenty-eight year old male back in Minnesota. He had ultimately been strangled by a chain, but that had been a mercy kill after what he had endured. Although they were able to rule out anyone with medical training after the fourth victim, this serial murderer knew how much the human body could handle. Chambers had nearly been eviscerated by a knife, his organs amazingly all intact despite the deep gashes through his stomach. Other parts of his body were cut to the bone, and he had been dismembered, his left hand and right leg from the knee down gone.

Compared to Chambers, Solorio was treated kindly. And it wasn’t because one was a man and the other a woman. Amber Dally, victim number nine in Missouri, _had_ been eviscerated, internal organs splayed over the ground and corpse. It had been one of the more grotesque crime scenes.

The question was, why were some murders more brutal than others? It would make sense if he escalated in brutality over time, but the first victim, Craig Hutchinson, had been hung by his wrists which were tied behind his head, one shoulder dislocated and the other broken. He was stripped almost naked with only a pair of briefs, leaving the serial killer’s Signature on his stomach in full view. Cause of death: exsanguination.

The second victim, however, was merely beaten over the head with a broken leg. Quick and efficient. There was no escalation from the first to second murder, so perhaps there was a higher body count than they believed. Bodies without their serial’s Signature, and without a recurrent MO, they would have no luck connecting any unsolved cases to their current one.

“So maybe there’s no sexual need for this guy,” Camm stated.

It took a few seconds for Victor to remember their thread of conversation, and proposed another idea, “Or he has another outlet for sexual release.”

“A lover, then?” Camm muttered questioningly. He continued a bit louder, “But since our serial’s a nomad, he’d have to be in a very committed relationship with someone who enjoys constant travel. Wouldn’t you expect a lover to know what this guy’s doing on the side?”

“You know as well as I do that many psychopathic serial killers have fooled their significant others into believing they’re normal people. It’s a shot in the dark, but definitely possible,” he defended.

Camm acquiesced with a slight nod before informing Victor with an irritated tone, “Solorio was a secretary in a law firm. A different career like the other twelve victims, which I guess is to be expected. This serial seems to enjoy fucking with our minds.”

Victor grinned wryly with a shake of his head and slapped Camm on the back twice. “And it’ll continue until we find this bastard. Don’t burn out on me yet, Camm.”

Thumb and forefinger putting pressure on his closed eyelids, Camm replied, exhausted, “I’ll try. Goddammit, I’ll try.”

He and Camm headed back to their vehicle, footsteps heavy when they realized they’d be doing the same thing in two more weeks. It was a vicious cycle, Victor silently noted.

 

* * *

 

Unknown to Agent Henriksen and Agent Camm, their serial killer watched as they left the crime scene from above, standing on the roof of the left building of the alleyway. He returned his green gaze towards the sheeted corpse and sighed happily, “I feel so loved.”

A shadowed figure joined his side, “This is such wasted time.”

“But it’s so much fun.”

The man stretched his arms to the sky, the moon shining its reflected light on a silver chain that hung around his neck. Connected to the chain was a symbol familiar to anyone in the FBI and the police departments. The golden pendant was outlined by a perfect circle, and within that space was a ten pointed star, gaps in the metal between each point that met on the circle. Embedded in the middle of the star was a coiled snake with sapphire eyes, protecting an emerald jewel in the shape of a feline’s pupil.

“So you say,” was said with exasperation.

He gave no reply as his attention was focused on the black SUV driving away. His shoulders dropped in disappointment. “Too bad. They were saying such interesting things.”

The shadow walked behind him into the moonlight, encircling his waist and nestling his shoulder. “Are we done here then?”

“Bi~tch. You’re too impatient,” he quietly whined.

The grip on his waist squeezed tight enough to bruise, “Careful what you say, jerk.” Though the threat was spoken teasingly, he could discern an underlying displeasure.

He fought the instinctive need to cower as he surrendered to the other’s wish. “Let’s go then.”

The two figures glanced down into the alley where the corpse was being wheeled away before fleeing the scene, returning to their own vehicle.

In Jonesboro, Arkansas, another victim would be found off the side of a hiking trail by a group of teenagers, stripped, flayed and decapitated with blood splattered across the surrounding vegetation.

And again, the case would grow cold until the next slaughter.

 


End file.
